Of Love and Kindred Spirits
by notoriousnineteen
Summary: They had both cheated death. Tristan was not the only person set on living. Tristan/OC (Ignores character death) (Read and Review!)


**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! Finally I am publishing my brain child. For three years this has been on the back burner and I finally kicked myself enough to get the nerve up and publish. I am working on my other stories as well (I love all of your comments and reviews, they mean so much to me and motivate me to do what I do).

This is Tristan and my OC character. I hope you will grow to love her as much as I have. This will be a long story, there will be some juicy bits in later chapters (sword fights and a love triangle...what?), bear with me and enjoy the story!

As always, I thrive on your comments and reviews.

**XOXOXO **

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Diplomacy was a word that flooded the Arthurian court, like a river in spring. It was everywhere, on everyone's lips, whispered in the corridors, and praised loudly amongst those of the Round Table. Trade was an industry the Arthurian kingdom had embraced; therefore, with trade came the word diplomacy. The kingdom needed friends to trade with. The world had been summoned to Britain; the little green island with its grey skies and cold winters. Invited by the great King Arthur who was both Christian and pagan. This little island had protected itself from Saxons and freed itself Rome.

The former had not been an easy struggle. Tristan remembered the blood on the battlefield, the death and the smell of burning tar. He could see his own life stopped on that field, his soul nearly gone before some Woad magic brought him back to this earth. There was a black hole in his memory, a momentary lapse in recording. He only recollected the sky, the sharp dull pain of the Saxon blade, and then black. Endless black sleep until he awoke once more in his chamber surrounded by his comrades.

It made no difference whether he lived or died. The two were no different except in life he could enjoy the comforts of women and drink. In death, he had realized, there were no such luxuries. Death had spirited away his comrade, Lancelot. His presence was greatly missed, especially in the company of women and drink. The dark knight was no longer present, but somehow his spirit lingered about. Children would tell stories about the "Great Knights of the Wall" and it was in these stories that the deceased became immortal. Their tales lived on in the imaginations of the young.

The Knight watched as two boys fought with sticks below the city gates. One of them was Bors' son, one of the elder ones with a freshly shaved head. The other kid was some village boy with a freckled face and dirty clothes. Mimicking sword play, they kicked and hissed whenever the fighting got out of hand. Venora would call to them from the tavern to settle down. Her large brood deprived most of her attention; besides, boys were prone to play.

Tristan drank from the jug of wine, passing it along to a fellow man on duty. Old habits die hard and it felt comfortable to stand up on the Wall gazing out into the vast green landscape. Yet, it still felt natural to be on alert. Tristan had lived more than half of his life fighting for survival. He knew of no other way to live. An era of peace was a foreign concept altogether. There would always be evil in the world and it would always need vanquishing.

"What do you think that is?"

The question was said offhandedly by Ganis who served under Tristan. He was a capable young man with a talent for following instructions. Tristan turned to look at the horizon. Riders in the distance caught his attention. The sun was falling, women were already lighting the lanterns for night. It was odd for anyone to be out past the Wall at this hour, except if they worked in the fields surrounding it. Despite the fact that it had been years since any real trouble, people still felt safer behind the Wall when night fell. The forest was home to all sorts of mischief.

In the dim sunlight Tristan could make out the armor. The horsemen wore bronze armor and their capes were red. Red was a sigil of Rome. Arthurian diplomacy was even extended to the former enemy of Britain. The Romans still needed Britain for money, and Britain needed Rome for its goods. Weapons, fabrics, and wine; Rome was a very much needed companion. There was one merchant in residence at the Wall, presently. The merchant's name was Servacio, a cunning man who had brought with him nearly half a dozen soldiers. It had taken nearly a week of bickering between the merchant and Arthur to allow for the soldiers to take up residence in the castle; but, eventually, the merchant had won out. Arthur knew Britain needed Rome more than Rome needed Britain. It would be foolish to step on the toes of a friend over a matter so insignificant. Tristan, however, saw the reaction of the people. No one liked the presence of Roman soldiers. Britons were not prone to forgetting past transgressions. Old wounds were slow to heal.

Three horses rode towards the Wall in great haste. Something was wrong. Tristan lent forward; he saw three horses but he could only make out two riders. The third horse had no rider. Instead, it appeared bodies had been draped over the back of the third horse. The bodies were partially covered by tarp, but Tristan knew what dead bodies looked like. Dagonet's lifeless form had looked much the same when they had brought it back to the Wall. As the Roman soldiers approached, Tristan spotted a figure riding with one of the soldiers. The person was hooded, their face covered by a brown cloak. They were small in stature, dwarfed by the soldier riding behind them in the saddle.

"Open the gates! We demand to see your King, in are hands is a _murderer_."

The Roman's voice was gruff and full of contempt. His men murmured to one another, gathering about to look at the scene. Murder was a strong accusation, though Tristan did not doubt that foul play was involved.

Ganis came forward towards Tristan expectantly. Tristan nodded at him, simply saying, "Go get Arthur and tell them to open the gates."

Ganis bobbed his head in understanding, nearly running down the steps. Men moved around Tristan, opening the large wooden gates to the city. The boys who had been playing below now stopped their fighting to stare at the soldiers who rode into the city. Women and men clustered about the courtyard. The words _Roman_ and _traitors_ were floating above the chatter of the townsfolk. Many in the crowd called out profanities and blasphemies towards the Romans.

Tristan descended the steps of the Wall. In the crowd he saw Gawain, the two Knights making eye contact. The blonde Knight came towards him, bobbing his head towards the scene.

"Roman soldiers and dead bodies, not your usual evening for sure."

He smiled at Gawain's dry manner.

"They have someone tied up, calling them a _murderer_. We'll see what they have to say for this."

Gawain raised his eyebrows whistling, surprised at Tristan's words. The soldiers were now in the courtyard. One was shouting for the crowds to dissipate. The people did no such thing, but instead clustered around the trio of horses. Bors' son and the village boy stood beside Venora who was bouncing a babe on her hip. One of the Roman soldiers removed himself from his horse, swiftly removing the cloth covering the dead Roman soldier. Several wenches who had wandered out of the tavern screamed in horror. The soldier had been killed with a gash to the throat. It was a nasty, jagged cut. Tristan and Gawain approached the body. Both of the Knights had been around enough bloodshed to steel themselves from disgust.

While Gawain surveyed the body, Tristan took a step closer to the hooded figure. They were frozen in the saddle, their hands bound by ropes. A Roman soldier with a grizzly scar over his nose pulled the person from the saddle. As soon as the hooded figure was placed on the ground, they began to thrash about, shouting indistinguishable words. The hood of the cloak came free from the jerking movements, revealing bright blonde hair. A shocked whisper ran through the audience that had gathered. It was a woman. Woad by her appearance, there was blood smeared on her temple and splattered on the front of her shirt. Her eyes were wide, like a deer caught amongst wolves.

The woman looked at Tristan and grasped for him, catching him by the arm. Tristan looked down to her pale hand around his arm. Her grip was strong and he froze at the touch. He didn't know what to do. The soldier with the scar grabbed her back, but she clung to the Knight. Tears were flowing freely down her face and for a fleeting moment Tristan felt pity for the wretch. Even though she was tall for a woman, she was dwarfed by the soldier who held her. Finally, the man was able to pry the Woad woman off of Tristan whose attention was drawn away by the sound of Arthur's voice.

"Make way. Make way! What is going on? _Tristan where are you?_"

Another buzz of excitement went through the crowd as Arthur came forward. Ganis and Jols were in tow behind him, and behind the men was Guinevere. Her stomach was round with the beginnings of pregnancy. Her eyes lit on the woman held by the Roman. Instantly, the queen went forward to assist the Woad, Tristan suspected that they knew one another. The other Roman grabbed Guinevere by the arm before she could go any further; roughly, jerking her away from the accused. Gawain and Tristan stepped forward, their swords unsheathed. Sensing his mistake, the Roman let Guinevere free. Gawain kept Guinevere at bay while Tristan kept his sword focused on the Roman who had grabbed her.

The accused Woad had stopped her struggle long enough to see Guinevere. A flood of Woad tongue began between the two women. Arthur shouted for silence; between his wife and the crowd, the scene was dissipating into chaos. The women, and the crowd, fell silent. Guinevere calmly removed herself from Gawain's grasp before going over to Arthur's side, whispering to her husband. Tristan watched as Arthur looked at his wife, heeding her words, before directing his conversation to the Roman soldier.

"Tell me what happened here?"

The soldier who Tristan had his sword focused on began to speak.

"Our horses needed to stretch, so we went for a ride outside the Wall. Alongside the tree line we saw a deer and followed it for a ways before we decided to turn back around. That is when we came along the woman. We called out to her and that is when she attacked us. She began cursing us with her pagan spells, scratching at our faces when we only meant goodwill. That's when the warrior came out of the trees and killed Rufus."

The soldier motioned to the dead soldier on the back of the horse. He continued with his story.

"There was no other way to get the warrior off Rufus, so I had to kill him. It is the law of Rome that murderers should be held accountable for their actions. That means a life for a life, death to those who take life."

A few cries were admitted at the thought of death. The Woads were not completely accepted in behind the Wall, their presence made many uncomfortable, but the Woads had fought beside the Knights to defeat the Saxons. They had earned the trust of the Arthurian Kingdom. Merlin advised Arthur on many decisions and Woads made daily trade in the market.

Arthur heeded the words of the soldier. Listening to the Roman's tale, Tristan knew that something was not being shared. He gave the woman a once over again. Her eyes were focused on Guinevere, the tears had stopped but she was shaking. A lone Woad would not attack three armed men unprovoked. Let alone this woman who looked unfit to even carry a sword. There was the warrior but even then something was not being said about this supposed murder.

The king appeared to think the same; he motioned to the soldier who had recounted the tale, "Bring the lady forward. I wish to hear her side."

The soldier with the gash over his nose pushed the woman to her knees in the dirt before Arthur. Tristan stepped forward with his sword out towards the Roman who had pushed her. Arthur bent forward looking the Woad in the face; the woman looked up imploringly at the king like a sinner to a Saint.

"Tell me what happened?"

Interjection from the soldiers was silenced by Gawain and Tristan moving their swords to their throats. Tristan was growing tired of these soldiers.

Silence fell amongst the crowd as the woman composed herself. With her face exposed, Tristan noticed that the Woad was young; a girl no older than Galahad. She looked a rare fright covered in blood and dirt. They all waited until she spoke, her voice wobbly.

"They came upon me. I-I was washing clothes in the river and one of them pushed me to the ground to…to…I hit them yes, but only because they attacked me. I-I cried out and Baegar came to protect me…They killed him and now he's dead. He's dead…"

Her voice trailed off as another fit of sobs broke out. Guinevere came forward, enveloping the woman in her arms. Arthur stepped past his wife and the woman before coming to address the soldiers. The two Romans attempted to interject but Tristan and Gawain kept their blades fixed on their throats until Arthur signaled for them to move away.

"You say your Roman law demands a life for a life. I see one dead Roman soldier and one dead man. Therefore, by my understanding: your law has been fulfilled. Where is your master?"

The soldier who had told the tale of murder stepped forward, a look of resentment in his eyes. His voice quavered though there was rage in his sentiment, "Our Master Servacio is in bed with a fever. He retired for the evening before we rode out. Master Servacio will not be happy to hear of this outrage."

Looking straight into the soldier's eyes, Arthur coolly stated, "Your master will be pleased to know that his men are not being banished from the Wall. You will return to your master's house before any more trouble can occur. Do I make myself clear?"

Both soldiers looked to object but the gaze in Arthur's eyes deterred them. With their silent agreement, Arthur continued pointing to the dead body on the back of the horse, "You may bury your comrade in the cemetery, but do so tomorrow. As for the man, leave him hear and I will have my men take him back to his people."

The soldiers did not look pleased. One dared to spit on the ground in front of Arthur. Grabbing the reigns of their horses, they moved away through the crowds. This was not before they took the body of the dead Woad and deposited it on the ground as if dropping a sack of grain. His face was exposed when the cloth fell away. A chunk had been taken out of his scalp, a nasty blow by a sword. Gawain, along with most of the audience, turned away in disgust while Tristan kept his eyes fixated on the body. A brutal way to go, in Tristan's opinion. The woman in Guinevere's care whimpered, crawling to the body and sprawling herself across it. Several women, including Venora, had come to Guinevere's aid in comforting the woman. Tristan thought it a sorry display.

He was surprised by Arthur's verdict. Normally the king did not let such violent acts go unpunished. Tristan sheathed his sword, looking at Arthur for instruction.

Arthur appeared fatigued. He clasped Tristan on the soldier and tiredly uttered, "Merlin shall not be happy to have lost a warrior of his merit. I shall call a council with him tomorrow and I must speak with Servacio, as well. I thought all of this bloodshed was behind us, I thought it would be different."

His voice trailed away and Tristan did not speak. There was nothing really to say; matters of state were beyond his position. He would aid his friend in whatever way necessary, which was all he could possibly do.

The men's consideration fell upon the Woad crippled in a ball near her dead lover. The women were comforting her, patting her head, whispering words of sentiment. Guinevere was talking with one of her handmaidens, while Venora was prying the Woad woman off the dead body. Arthur once again looked to Tristan.

"I'm asking you to keep an eye on the Roman soldiers. Make sure no other incidents such as this happen. Gawain and Galahad will be made aware as well; leave Bors out of this, I do not want him becoming entangled in these affairs. Especially since he has a _family_ to take care of."

Tristan smiled. Family was becoming an important word to Arthur. Even more important than his precious diplomacy.

Nodding, the Knight watched as the woman was finally pulled away and ushered into the castle. Guinevere came to Arthur's side and the two fell into deep conference as they walked back into the stronghold. Gawain recovered the dead body, directing some of the men to lift it. Tristan knew the body would be returned to the forest. Given to the Woads to bury as seen fit. What would happen to the woman, Tristan was unsure of. Did she have any family of her own? The crowds soon dissipated and Tristan was left standing in the courtyard while life carried on about him.

Gawain called out to him from the tavern. Something about wine and women.


End file.
